Mr. Rippingill can not get his wife to relax her stony features and smile. Maybe even laugh. "Avis - Lady Whitstable and the pickled salmon. Now consider for a moment, my pet - reflect. What a grotesque contrast! A fine, crusted specimen of our English aristocracy and - pickled fish! The mere contemplation of two images so violently opposed in itself makes for mirth. Doesn't it dearest?" But it is tough going. So he tries to....
